


What are the Odds?

by VioVayo



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, i have no idea how to tag this, probabilist!verse, war mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioVayo/pseuds/VioVayo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy had been saying that this was a terrible idea from the very start. Probabilists, with their weird golden eyes and their reality-bending powers, were mostly useless in Roy’s opinion – even if they could manipulate the odds of something happening, even if those odds were high, it still wasn’t guaranteed to happen, and Roy knew from experience that luck was something that simply couldn’t be relied on, ever.</p><p>Chance /always/ fucked you over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What are the Odds?

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> Based on several conversations I had with [96kyirah](https://tmblr.co/mnVi9vt2bmg87Wq6ra7ec-w) that sparked this idea, and betaed by the wonderful [S.](https://tmblr.co/mwMaer1J7pvY3EwDllXHOMw) who also kicked my ass to finish this.

“So.”

Roy looked the young man in front of him up and down.

Actually, he wasn’t even that. He was just a kid, far too young to join the war or be involved in it in any way. But he had to be legal at least, or else he wouldn’t even be allowed here. He had to be, right? The military wouldn’t _actually_ try to hire a child. Roy frowned.

“So?” he mirrored, cocking his head in what he hoped to be a mocking display. The boy seemed unimpressed, staring calmly back at him with those oh so valuable golden eyes of his.

Valuable. Right.

More like unreliable.

Roy had been saying that this was a terrible idea from the very start. Probabilists, with their weird golden eyes and their reality-bending powers, were mostly useless in Roy’s opinion – even if they could manipulate the odds of something happening, even if those odds were high, it still wasn’t _guaranteed_ to happen, and Roy knew from experience that luck was something that simply couldn’t be relied on, _ever_.

Besides, Roy, his men, and everyone else in the military were trained soldiers, specialised in skills that were specifically meant to win wars like the one their nation so foolishly started. There was no reason for the military to rely on chance to achieve victory, but nobody ever listened to Roy, and the higher-ups sent him to meet with a goddamn _child_ in some inn in the middle of nowhere. All because they wanted to ‘hire a probabilist to boost their chances’ in a war that they had brought upon themselves in the first place.

What a bunch of idiots.

But Roy wasn’t getting paid to complain.

“So,” the kid said, “We both know what you want from me, but what could you offer in exchange that makes it worth helping you slaughter innocent people?” The boy’s eyes glittered dangerously, like he was daring Roy to answer. Oh boy, Roy thought, this was going to be one of _those_ missions, as if he hadn’t already known that before.

“Whatever you want?” he shot back. He could feel a headache coming on, because not only was this ridiculous and stupid on its own already, no, _of course_ the probabilist he was sent to hire had to be as difficult as possible too. Just his usual luck. Oh the irony.

“Nothing,” the boy replied, and Roy just about wanted to strangle him. “There’s nothing that can convince me to kill.”

“Nobody is asking you to,” Roy said, trying to stay calm. The kid was right, but that didn’t make him any less annoying. Roy had a job to do and he knew from experience that his superiours didn’t care about the moral codes of children, nor did they care about his. “You’re only supposed to assist our soldiers a bit.” _You won’t make much of a difference anyway_ , he didn’t dare say out loud.

“Yeah no,” the probabilist seemed unimpressed. “People are gonna die and I don’t wanna be responsible.”

“Why are you even here then?”

The kid crossed his arms and frowned – it looked more like a pout if Roy was completely honest, and he wondered again, was he even old enough to be here? “I thought it’d be funny, or at least _interesting_. But all you’re doing is pissing me off.” Oh, the feeling was very mutual. “Anyway, I’m done here.” The kid planted both hands firmly on the table they were sitting at and pushed himself into a standing position. “I got a sick brother to take care of and I’m not gonna waste my time here.”

“Wait!” Roy almost yelled, catching a few weird glances from people at the other tables. He grit his teeth. If it was up to him, he’d just let the boy go. He wanted to, he really did, but what he wanted didn’t matter. A job was a job. “Say that again?”

The boy, who was just about to turn away and leave, turned back to face Roy again, eyebrows drawn together and eyes narrowed, and Roy wondered if he should just leave him be after all. “Say what again?”

“You said your brother is sick. And that you’re taking care of him. What about your parents?”

“That’s none of your business,” the boy hissed, and Roy did his best not to visibly flinch. Struck a nerve there?

“You’re an orphan.” It wasn’t a question, it was an observation. Roy wasn’t stupid, and the way the probabilist’s expression went from irritated to shocked to furious in less than a second was all the confirmation he needed.

“So what?” the boy grit out, and part of Roy felt bad about all this, really bad, but he didn’t want to get in trouble with his superiours. “I don’t need your pity, I’ve handled both myself and my brother pretty well so far!”

“Your brother, what does he have? Are you aware that whatever it is, the military has the funds to treat it?” Roy leant back in his chair, folding his hands together on the table as the boy hesitantly sat back down across from him. Now they were talking for real.

“Trying out a new tactic?” The kid sounded distrustful. Roy couldn’t blame him.

“It's working, isn't it?” Roy said.

“What makes you think that?”

“You sat back down.”

The probabilist glared in silence.

“I assume you care a lot about your brother,” Roy said, watching the boy’s reaction closely. He was listening. Good. “It would be a shame if you dismissed this chance to help him get better.” Roy put on a smirk at the kid’s badly hidden gasp and thought, _sorry kid, this hurts me too, but we don’t have a choice._ “Wouldn’t it?”

The boy shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and sighed. He lowered his eyes and silently stared at the table for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but, to Roy, felt like an eternity, then looked back up. “You’re a horrible person.”

He was right. “I’m a soldier.” _I’m not allowed to be a good person._

“Okay fine.” The boy said finally, after another pause. “You win. I’ll help in your stupid war. But I won’t be involved in any killing or the deal is off!”

“Of course,” Roy said, and held out his hand for the kid to shake. He said that now, but Roy knew that once the fighting started, morality wouldn’t matter anymore. “The name’s Roy Mustang. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Edward Elric,” the boy replied as he took the offered hand. “You’re a dick, and I hope you’ll have bad luck for the rest of your life.”

Well, Roy thought, the kid was free to try and curse him all he wanted. With the luck he’s had all his life, things could only change for the better.

Chance _always_ fucked you over.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'm gonna make this a multichapter thing or leave it as a oneshot. Oh who am I kidding, this will never be continued. Still, any feedback would be very much appreciated.


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